Circle of Steel
by SanoGirl
Summary: ONE-SHOT SONGFIC. What was Seto Kaiba's life like before he became Seto Kaiba? A look into his childhood reveals a mother trying hard, but failing miserably to give her son what he deserves.


Circle of Steel

~~~

"_Rows of light in a circle of steel,_

_where you place your bets on a great big wheel._

_High windows flickerin' down through the snow, a time you know._

_Sights and sounds of the people goin' round,_

_everybody's in step with the season._"

The snow fell softly, muffling the sounds of cars driving by on the road outside the window, and painting the world a fresh, new white. It swirled and danced in an ever-downward spiral, dusting the heads of those people still out walking in such weather. The sky was dark, not only with the snow clouds, but with the rapidly falling twilight. The falling dark only muffled all noise further, cushioning it in a blanket of shadow.

She stared out the window and sighed, brushing long, dark brown hair back from a long, sad face scarred by time and worry. Turning away from the wintry weather outside, her deep blue eyes alighted upon the scrawny tree in the corner. Adorned with a few pitiful strings of lights and a few chipped ornaments, the Christmas tree was sadly lacking in holiday spirit.

Her eyes grew hard as they continued to stare at the pathetic tree. Angrily she threw the glass in her hand at it, and watched as the half-empty tumbler shatter against the wall, spilling its contents everywhere and dousing the drooping branches.

A thin wail arose from the other side of the room and the woman ignored it; rubbing her temples, she sat down at the table and closed her eyes wearily.

"_A child is born to a welfare case,_

_where the rats run around like the own the place._

_The room is chilly, the building is old,_

_that's how it goes._"

She shivered slightly and pulled the faded sweater hanging around her bony shoulders closer, trying to grasp every last bit of warmth she could. She stared straight ahead at nothing, still ignoring the faint whimpers of the baby in its pen.

A fine layer of dust coated almost everything in the room; its only real reason for being there was to hide the worn, faded look of the sparsely furnished area. The wallpaper was peeling and the carpet was burned and stained in more then one place; the woman gazed at all of this without really seeing it. The cigarette in her one hand spewed forth a slender stream of smoke that wound its way lazily up towards the ceiling.

"_Deck the halls was the song they played,_

_in the flat next door where they shout all day._

_She tips her gin bottle back 'till it's gone._"

Unconsciously, her free hand reached towards where her glass should have before she remembered that it was now lying in pieces upon the worn carpet. Sighing, she took the bottle instead and downed the rest of its contents, growling as the liquid hit her stomach and set it on fire.

Taking a long drag on her cigarette, she shot it out of her nose, watching as the pen on the opposite side of the table almost disappeared from her vision behind a screen of smoke. The little whimpers had faded and the tiny baby inside now lay quiet, most likely asleep once more.

Tiredly, the older person put out her cigarette directly on the table surface; small burn marks already peppered its entire surface, what was one more scar? She certainly had enough to show.

"_The child is strong._

_A week, a day they will take it away,_

_For they know about all her bad habits._"

Putting her face in her hands, she leaned skeletal arms on the table and licked her lips, drinking up all the last bits of alcohol that remained on her mouth. Soon, quiet sobs wracked her entire body, shaking her shoulders and vibrating the table.

An hour or so later, sleep finally claimed her exhausted body and she fell gratefully into a deep, dreamless sleep that healed her body, but not her soul.

"_Christmas dawns and the snow lets up,_

_and the sun hits the handle of her heirloom cup._

_She hides her face in her hands for a while._"

The morning sun struck her face square on and painted the insides of her eyelids with fire and gold. Blinking, she sat up blearily and groaned when a familiar pounding settled behind her eyes. "Shit . . ." she muttered softly, reaching out for a smoke.

Fumbling for a moment, she finally lit the cigarette and went over to the sink, downing several glasses of water.

Noticing the baby's pen for the first time that morning, she wandered over on stocking feet, her footsteps falling almost soundlessly on the carpet. Yawning, she glanced down at her child and a tender light kindled in her eyes, spreading to her whole face and giving it the closest thing to beauty she could ever hope to have. The cig burned forgotten in her hand and she continued to stare at her son, watching his tiny chest rise and fall with his breathing and his tiny fingers clench and unclench as he slept.

"_Says look here child:_

_Your father's pride was his means to provide,_

_and he's serving three years for that reason._"

"My little Seto," she whispered fondly, reaching down with one calloused, rough hand and stroking one chubby cheek. "What am I going to do with you? Your daddy's gone off to jail and I can't seem to give you the love and care you need, no matter what I do . . ."

Tears began to fall again from her face and she fell to her knees beside the pen, snubbing out her cigarette as she went. "They're going to take you away from me! They're going to take my baby!" Clinging to the side of the pen, she let her grief consume her, let her tears fall like rain into the pen where her precious son lay.

"_Rows of light in a circle of steel,_

_where you place your bets on a great big wheel._

_High windows flickerin' down through the snow, a time you know._

_Sights and sounds of the people goin' round,_

_everybody's in step with the season . . ._"

Stirring slightly, the baby rolled a little and opened his eyes to meet her own. Depthless blue met depthless blue as the two locked gazes and remained that way for many long moments. After several minutes that had seemed like hours to the woman, the little boy in front of her blinked as his mouth stretched into a wide, happy grin.

Reaching up his hands to her, he cooed softly and then giggled. Crying even harder the woman pulled him into her arms and wandered around the bedraggled room, finally stopping to gaze oiut the window once more.

Church bells rang outside and the Christmas traffic was heavy despite the snow-covered roads. The sun shone down brightly, catching the miniscule crystals and causing them to glitter with unnatural brilliance. Her tears slowing, the woman kissed the top or her baby's head.

"Merry Christmas Seto. Merry Christmas."


End file.
